APPALACHIA REGION, N.C. and TENN. — It’s election season, so maybe it’s no surprise that the federal response to damage in Hurricane Helene’s wake is a hot topic, especially on social media. However, some of the conspiracies, misinformation, and rumors that circulate are extraordinary.
Enough so that the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is addressing them directly: No, FEMA can’t seize your land if it’s “deemed unlivable” and the agency says rumors it’s confiscating private donations are false.
On the ground in western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee, NPR reporters are hearing echoes of this misinformation. But they’ve also found less politicization and a more nuanced view of the federal response, especially in communities that have been without internet access since Helene raged through the region.
Elon Musk’s social media platform X has been an especially fertile place for politically charged rumors and conspiracies. Sometimes they have been fueled by the billionaire himself.
On Friday Musk fed into a common complaint online that governments are preventing private citizens from offering help to people in need. Musk wrote that his “blood is boiling” after engineers from his company SpaceX tried to offer help via helicopter but “@FEMA wouldn’t let them land to deliver critical supplies.”
Actually the Federal Aviation Administration regulates airspace and the FAA said in a statement that following Helene the skies have been crowded and it's trying to maintain safety. A federal official confirmed to NPR that there have been more than 30 cases where two aircraft almost collided, as air traffic in the region increased 300% after the storm. There are no restrictions to aerial recovery operations.
Perhaps no area in North Carolina has been the subject of more blatant false online rumors than Chimney Rock — including the persistent untrue claim that FEMA abandoned the village so that the Biden administration can mine lithium there.
“Anything that you see, that you hear that sounds like that is not true,” says village mayor Peter O’Leary.
“It's a little disturbing and just upsetting that people want to believe the horrible stuff, but they don't want to believe the true stuff,” he says.
FEMA could be moving a little faster than it has been, he admits, and he has had moments of frustration, “[but] every time I found out why somebody's not moving as fast, the reason for it is always a good, sound reason,” he says.
North Carolinians with no previous experience living through a natural disaster may be understandably wary of FEMA. The agency has received a lot of bad press in the past for how it handled other disasters, such as Hurricanes Katrina and Sandy.
“People up here aren't going to put up with the bureaucratic stuff,” says Colt Truesdale, a North Carolinian who organized a donations drive and benefit concert Saturday afternoon in Mill Spring. Like so many people in this part of the country, he’s not waiting for government assistance or leadership, instead taking matters into his own hands to help neighbors.
“We're just a different breed up here, and it's starting to get spicy,” he grins.
In Jonesborough, Tenn., where the Nolichucky River flooded rural farms and homes, there are echoes of the online kerfuffles but also a desire to step away from politics.
“We've been in a bit of an internet black hole down here,” says Mollie Freeman, as she picks up muddy items off the floor of her mother-in-law's flooded house and puts them in a trash bag. “We're just kind of focused on helping each other and just haven't paid too much attention to it.”
A mile-and-a-half down the road, a local bar has become a collection and distribution center for donations and a source of hot meals for those helping locals recover. It’s also where neighbors catch up and share news—not all of it true.
“There is no organization. It's called community,” says Tabitha Swinehart, who has lived here for 30 years. Asked about the federal government’s response to storm damage she says, “Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about. There has been none. We haven't seen any federal response.” FEMA says nearly 7,000 federal employees have been deployed across the region.
Swinehart then packs hot meals onto a blue four-wheeled utility vehicle and speeds away to deliver them up mountain roads that are no longer accessible by car.
The owner of Green Turtle Garage Bar, Stacey Puzio, is wearing a Trump t-shirt. “Pretty much all of my whole wardrobe is either Trump or Green Turtle,” she laughs. Jonesborough is in Washington County, which voted for Donald Trump in 2020 by a two-to-one margin.
“Well, you got a lot of conservatives over here who are not fond of the government,” Puzio says. While the bar only just got electricity restored, some of the politically charged misinformation about the federal government’s response to Helene has reached her.
“Somebody mentioned that [Vice President] Harris was going to be gracious enough to send $750 to ease the strain of losing your loved one and your pets and your home,” Puzio scoffs, “So I'm sure that'll make a huge difference for everybody.”
FEMA distributes disaster assistance and says rumors that only $750 will be available are false. This is just one program called “Serious Needs Assistance” for immediate help with “essential items like food, water, baby formula, breastfeeding supplies, medication and other emergency supplies.” The agency says there are other programs available that can help pay for things like temporary housing and repairing a home.
Former President Donald Trump has accused the Biden administration of “going out of their way to not help people in Republican areas.” But relief volunteers like Tyler King of Johnson City, Tenn., say they want to avoid partisanship now.
“When that stuff becomes the focus, I think we're worried about the wrong things,” says King. “I think to go down those roads is a little irrelevant when there are people hurting, dying and in need.”
Along with FEMA assistance, volunteers and community food and supply drives help fill the gaps, and these efforts sometimes lead to striking displays of non-partisanship.
In Swannanoa, N.C., wedding photographer Michael Freas drops off a Starlink internet receiver to a park where another grassroots relief effort has sprung up. His contribution earns him a comforting hug from one of the volunteers in charge of the donation table.
The Asheville resident says it’s been a relief to set aside the political tensions and focus on building neighborly connections.
“I think with the climate, with how everything [was] pre-storm, I haven't heard one talk about this or that,” he says, referring to how politically charged his interactions had been before tragedy put everyone on common ground.
In fact, Freas says, he’s been having unexpectedly poignant moments with people on the other end of the political spectrum — including with one stranger who parked a car covered in MAGA bumper stickers on the same bridge from which Freas surveyed the damage to south Asheville.
They looked over the destruction, then hugged — a moment of empathy that would have been unimaginable just a week earlier.
“It was a pretty powerful moment,” he said. “I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”
NPR's Joel Rose and Louisville Public Media's Justin Hicks contributed to this story.
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